A Khanon Carol
by Little Rachael
Summary: Khanon receives a visitor who is intent on gently breaking through the icy exterior of his heart.


The mansion was spotless as usual. He insisted on it. It had not earned him any friends among the team of maids that cleaned each week, but friendship had never been important to Khanon.

Khanon was quite possibly the most intimidating CEO in town. With a thin figure that loomed over his contemporaries and a sharp, impressive wardrobe, he was a man of scrict business. He had never loved anyone in his life. He had only been with a woman long enough to produce offspring, and his son was simply someone who would one day inherit his fortune.

Yes, if not the most intimidating, Khanon was certainly the most heartless CEO this side of Asgard. To him, business and profit were everything. He could not quite say it was something he enjoyed, but work was more easy to tolerate than anything else.

The phone rang, interrupting Khanon's bookkeeping for the third time in as many hours. He almost preferred telemarketers to distant relatives wanting to wish him a "Happy Holidays." Foolishness. They should know by now that he regarded holidays as nothing more than extra stress. "Just in case you change your mind," they always said when they invited him to parties. He had not changed his mind in 42 years. Why should he now?

It was his son, Seluvia.

"Father!" he said in a manner which betrayed his expectations for an argument. "Your granddaughter is 18 months old now, and she's learning to talk. She says so many things now. Won't you come over and spend just five minutes with her? I'm sure she would be very happy to see her grandpa—"

"Seluvia." Khanon's voice was cold, distant. "You know I cannot stand children. Maybe in another 20 years, I'll think about it."

"Father!" Seluvia's voice was breaking.

"Suck it up," Khanon hissed into the receiver. "I'm ashamed to have such a pansy for a son. Don't forget, you owe your success in life to me! I gave you everything money could buy on the grounds that you would _stay out of my life_!" He slammed the phone on the receiver before his wimpy spawn could start sniveling. Disgusting. How could _he _have helped make that big crybaby?

It was his mother, his damn mother. The wench had spoiled him, softened him, told him he could cry when he was sad. Khanon knew not everyone could be as hard and unfeeling as himself, but he had at least expected his child to only cry if someone died. But no, the little tyke had cried all the time—when he stubbed his toe, when he couldn't have any ice cream, when he got in trouble at school.

Khanon had not shed a single tear since he was four years old and his pet gerbil had been run over by a car. He did not cry at his parents' funeral, at his son's birth, or at his son's wedding. For the sake of appearances, he crushed all emotions underfoot. It had become easier as time passed. In fact, other than mild irritation, moderate irritation, severe irritation, and (on rare occasions) full-out contempt for his fellow man, Khanon was quite certain that he had no emotions left.

The doorbell rang. Grumbling, Khanon stood up and went to get it.

"Hey, baby daddy!" greeted Phyress as soon as he opened the door. "What are you up to this fine winter day?"

Khanon scowled. "I am not _your _'baby daddy.'"

"But you are my son-in-law's daddy," she reminded him. "Seluvia is my son now. And you're his daddy, so in a way you _are _my baby daddy."

He sighed. "Fine, then. Call me whatever you like. Why exactly did you come here?"

"I came to return the book you lent me."

His scowl grew deeper. "I told you you didn't need to return that book. I hated it, and only gave it to you because you like books so much and I had no use for it."

Phyress grinned. "You really are a nice guy, Khanon."

"Try telling that to my family," he grumbled. "And the mother of my son. Oh, and her family. And all my associates and employees. And those with whom I've made business contracts. And the people I pass on the street. And the teachers and principals of my son's schools. And _every other person I have interacted with since I was born_."

"Except me," she corrected.

"Except you." A pause. "Why is it, Phyress, that _you_, and no one else, can tolerate me?"

She shrugged. Her face, for once, was serious. "Is that the case? Or am I the only person _you _can tolerate?"

"Come in and close the door. It's freezing."

Once they were inside Khanon's very warm living room—he had positively no concerns about global warming, which would only have severe consequences long after he was gone—Phyress helped herself to a cup of hot chocolate. He hated sweet things, and really only kept it at his house because he had no reason to get rid of it. Miserly as he was, he hated to waste anything.

"Mmmm…Belgian Blend. My favorite."

Silence.

"So what other books have you been reading lately?" Phyress asked after a few minutes.

"I recently read _Pride and Prejudice_ and _Catcher in the Rye_," he answered. "Silly books. I don't know why you lent them to me."

"It's good to do something other than worry about business every now and then." Phyress smiled at him gently. "Don't you think so?"

"Hmph. What else is there in life?"

"Let's take a walk," Phyress said suddenly. "It's a gorgeous day outside."

"I hate winter," he grumbled. "Too cold." But he went to get his jacket nonetheless.

***

"Doesn't the cold give you a heightened sense of things?" Phyress asked him. "Listen to the way the sound carries in the icy air of night. That phrase there—'icy air of night'—is from a poem by Edgar Allan Poe called 'The Bells.' Only the first part is popular around Christmas time. It starts out with the merry tinkling of sleigh bells, and then ends with the mournful church bells at a funeral."

"Enthralling." Khanon was shivering already. He absolutely, positively _hated _the outdoors.

As they walked along—briskly, as if attempting to out-walk the cold--he took a look at Phyress. She was even older than he, but she had a distinct youthfulness about her. She could easily pass for Chrystie's sister instead of her mother. _Damn it, _he thought. _How does she stay so young?_

"Listen to the birds," she said. "Don't they sound lovely? Look at them, scattered all over those trees, resting only for a minute before they take off again."

"Looks like too much trouble. It makes me glad to be human."

"And look at the children playing in the snow. Look at how carefree they are. They're so happy just from making a simple snowman."

"I hate children."

"And look at the sun. Look at how it shines. See how it reflects off the snow and makes it sparkle."

"It's making my eyes hurt."

They continued their walk in this manner until they had circled the block and reached the indoor, heated comfort of Khanon's house again. At this point, Khanon was red-faced (from the cold) and out of breath (from the exercise) and…_happy_.

It was an unusual and almost bothersome sensation. It was not something that could be tangibly _felt_, yet if he had to describe it, the words "warm" and "tingly" came to mind.

She opened the door for him. "Thank you," he mumbled, and then stopped in his tracks. Did he just say _Thank you_? He could not remember thanking anyone for anything in his entire _life_. _What _was this woman doing to him?

Just then, Phyress' cell phone rang. "Oh, hello, Chrys? What's up?...Oh, yeah, I'll be over in a few minutes. Just visiting an old friend."

_Friend_? Khanon had never considered himself a _friend _of hers. There it was again, that troublesome feeling. Something was wrong. Something had to be done.

"Phyress…"

She looked up. "Yeah? What's up, Khanon?" She turned back to her phone. "Yeah…Yeah…Oh, he's not so bad as that."

_Not so bad as what_? Khanon wondered.

"Yes, I'll be right over. Bye-bye." As soon as she hung up, she turned to Khanon. "Well, I'm off. Going to visit Chrystie and her family. Want me to relay a message to them?"

"Yes." Khanon cleared his throat. "Tell them…I _might _stop by later. You know, when there are fewer people around. But don't get excited or anything! I don't want any fuss if I do stop by, understand? I hate it when people make a fuss. And don't expect me to stay for long! I'm just going so they'll stop bothering me." He took a deep breath. "Did you get all that?"

"Yup!" Phyress beamed and spun around. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

He shook his head, still dazed at all the crazy things he was saying and doing. "No…That's all, Phyress."

"All right, then. I'll be seein' ya, baby daddy! Merry Christmas!" And before Khanon could reply, she was gone.

_Ridiculous_, Khanon thought as he shut the door. _I'd better take a break from all this paperwork until I've sorted this out. Maybe do some reading._

As Khanon settled down with a cup of hot chocolate (extra dark) and a good book (Conrad's _Heart of Darkness_), something strange happened to Khanon's face. It was almost an almost painful process—"creaky" would be a good word to describe it—but when it was finished, it induced him to stand up and walk over to the mirror and look at himself.

Yes, it was true.

For the first time in decades, Khanon was _smiling_.

THE END


End file.
